


What I'm Thankful For

by Pigzxo



Series: Rovinsky Holidays [6]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, Weddings, i'm aware i just make up back story as i go but deal with it, sorry it's a novel, this is my fave part of this series actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 01:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: Mrs. Gansey's annual Thanksgiving dinner party takes a turn when Kavinsky takes over the festivities.





	What I'm Thankful For

The Ganseys’ annual Thanksgiving dinner was an all day event Ronan had spent most of his life trying to avoid. From sneaking away to play Hot Wheels when he was five to spending the vast majority of the day sleeping off a hangover when he was sixteen, Ronan had not once properly spent the whole day at the Ganseys’ Thanksgiving dinner. Partly because he couldn’t be bothered to spend a solid ten hours on one holiday and partly because the dinner was always a flimsy excuse to play politics. He didn’t begrudge Mrs. Gansey her job, he just didn’t have a lot to say to her friends.

            But for once, today, he showed up on time. He showed up with Kavinsky at his side, both of them dressed impeccably. Ronan had on a slick black suit with a grey vest underneath and black bow tie. Kavinsky had opted for a maroon suit with a cummerbund and a mini cornucopia as a lapel pin. He wore a black and maroon paisley tie and had done his best to slick back his spiky hair into something nearing respectable. They stopped side by side on the doorstep, Kavinsky holding a bottle of red wine by the neck like he was trying to strangle it and Ronan awkwardly balancing a tray of yams in one hand while he tried to dig the invitation out of his pocket with the other.

            Kavinsky glanced over at him, almost lazy despite his knuckles going white around the bottle. “Don’t they know you by now?” he said.

            “They uninvited me after last time.” Ronan tilted the yams and nearly dropped them but he caught the dish with his other hand just in time. Taking a deep breath, he balanced the tray again but before he could try again, Kavinsky was already digging around unkindly in his pockets.

            “What happened last time?” Kavinsky asked as he rummaged through the way too many pockets of Ronan’s suit.

            Ronan sighed and raised his arms as Kavinsky snaked his arms around him. “I got drunk around noon and set off the fire alarm smoking in the bathroom. Which really wouldn’t have been a problem at all if it had been a normal cigarette and Mr. Gansey hadn’t called 911 the second he thought his precious house was in danger.”

            Kavinsky let out a low whistle and then pressed a chaste kiss onto the back of Ronan’s neck. The few hairs there prickled but with his head freshly shaven, Ronan mostly just felt Kavinsky’s hot breath against his skin. “My bad boy,” Kavinsky whispered, his voice rumbling in a way that was far from innocent. Ronan closed his eyes as Kavinsky dug his hand into the back pocket of his pants and squeezed hard. “What a rebel.”

            “Stop,” Ronan said but he knew everything about his voice said _go on_. He tilted his head back and Kavinsky met his eyes, mischief sparkling. Ronan smiled. “We really can’t fool around on the Ganseys’ front porch. Did you find the invitation yet?”

            “Yeah.” Kavinsky removed his hands and stepped back. He pulled the invitation out of the pocket inside his own suit jacket and offered it to Ronan. “I took it from you back at the apartment.”

            Ronan stared at him for a long moment. Then he snatched the invitation from his fiancé. “You’re an asshole,” he said.

            “An asshole you love,” Kavinsky shot back.

            Shaking his head, Ronan rang the doorbell. He played with the corners of the envelope, hoping his nerves didn’t show. But he knew they did when Kavinsky took one of his hands in his and twisted their fingers together. He held his hand loosely, casually, like it was the most normal and natural thing in the world. But Kavinsky never held Ronan’s hand, not sober and in public, and just his touch had the ability to calm Ronan’s racing heart.

            “The Ganseys love you.” Kavinsky squeezed his hand. “We’ll be fine.”

            Ronan glanced his way, letting the edge of a smile grace his lips. “I’m just stressed.”

            Kavinsky shrugged. “You’re the one who banned your favourite form of stress relief until after the wedding.”

            Ronan chuckled. “I’m just trying to blackmail you into actually picking a date.”

            “It’s not working,” Kavinsky said. “Your ass isn’t that nice.”

            Of course, Mrs. Gansey chose that precise moment to open the door. And, of course, actually being on time meant the hostess opened the door and not the butler. In perfect silence, trying not to let his cheeks redden or to notice the shock on Mrs. Gansey’s face, Ronan handed over the gold-embossed invitation. Mrs. Gansey took it, clutched it between her hands for a moment, and then broke out her best politcian’s smile.

            “How lovely to see you again, Ronan,” she said, stepping back to let them in. “And this must be your fiancé. Joseph, is it?”

            Kavinsky gave Mrs. Gansey a wide-eyed stare akin to a deer in the headlights. Ronan smiled for him, unsure Kavinsky’s face was able to make that expression look non-threatening, and said, “He prefers Kavinsky. Or K.”

            Mrs. Gansey nodded, her smile strained but still in place as she shut the door. Immediately, the cold November air left them and the simmering warmth of the house enveloped them. In the foyer, with the ivory walls and the crystal chandelier, Ronan felt smaller than he ever had at the Barns. He both loved and hated that about the Ganseys’ house – how easy it was to disappear in it. The air smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, no doubt coming from the candles leading the way further into the house.

            “Gansey is in the living room but he’s still engrossed in one of his books, unfortunately.” She swallowed visibly and then gestured down the hall. “Make yourselves at home. There are mimosas and appetizers circling already.”

            Ronan inclined his head and thanked her, then pulled Kavinsky away before he could do anything offensive. As they walked down the hall, Kavinsky leaned in to breathe in Ronan’s ear and whispered, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re embarrassed of me.”

            Ronan turned to him with a smile, their lips barely brushing, their noses knocking together. “You’re embarrassed of yourself,” he said.

            Kavinsky shoved him lightly as they emerged into the living room. Their hands fell apart as a few sets of eyes fixated on them but no one all that interesting had arrived yet. It was mostly a handful of the Ganseys’ relatives and a few close family friends. Ronan led the way around the throng of staring bystanders to head towards the overstuffed white couches.

            It took him less than ten seconds to find Gansey because Gansey was where he always was. He sat on the right end of the middle couch, one arm resting against the armrest and holding his glasses while the other held a book propped against his knee. He was dressed in the Gansey Thanksgiving Uniform – a cream shirt, a burgundy sweater vest, black slacks, and argyle socks. If Ronan stopped for a moment, he could mentally rewind time back through every Thanksgiving to see Gansey in the exact same spot, his book covers the only thing changing colour over the years.

            The new addition this year was Henry sitting curled into his side. He had his head resting on Gansey’s shoulder and his eyes half open. He wore the Uniform as well in a slightly different colour combination – khaki slacks, navy sweater vest, burgundy shirt, socks with bumble bees on them. When Gansey flipped the page, Henry grumbled and Gansey flipped it back to let him read. Then he looked up in dazed boredom and spotted Ronan.

            Gansey blinked in shock and said, “What time is it?”

            “A little after ten,” Ronan said. He slumped onto the perpendicular couch and Kavinsky sat down beside him, too close. Their thighs brushed together and Ronan did all he could to ignore the contact. He may have been the one to say no sex before the wedding but it was Kavinsky who had taken that to mean no oral sex, no make out sessions, and no innocent kissing. And Ronan had no extra energy to waste arguing about Kavinsky’s overdramatic nature.

            “Then why are you here?” Gansey said.

            “Nice, Dick.” Ronan smiled. “I like hanging out with you too.”

            “You know what I mean.” Gansey shifted his hand as Henry reached to flip the page himself. Then, he placed a bookmark on the new page and set the book aside.

            Henry looked up sleepily and said, “Oh. Hey, guys.”

            “Do you ever sleep?” Kavinsky said.

            Henry yawned. “I figured out how to get this game I’m working on to tell the difference between a dissolve hit and a reassemble hit but it required completely redoing the code so that the make-up of the alien wasn’t solid and it took all night.” He shot a sad look at Gansey. “And then we had to come here at the ass crack of dawn.”

            Gansey chuckled. “You’re the one who wanted to come. I would have let you sleep.”

            “But then you would have had to have woken Blue,” Henry said. “And then no one would have slept.”

            Gansey bit down on his laugh but his smile stayed firmly in place as he drummed his fingers against the book cover. Then he got to his feet and said, “How do you feel about appetizers and mimosas?”

            “Sober,” Kavinsky said.

            Ronan shot him a look. “From alcohol?”

            Kavinsky pulled the chain around his neck out from under his shirt. The chips on it hit together with a cacophony of chimes. He picked through them slowly until he came to the one he wanted and tapped on it. Ronan leaned closer and saw that it was a one week AA chip. He raised his eyebrow at Kavinsky, questioning.

            “I had to take some of the kids,” Kavinsky said, shrugging it off. He dropped the necklace back down his shirt. “And of course, the little assholes can’t understand that they have drinking problems and I don’t, so I’m going sober with them. Solidarity and all that shit.”

            Ronan smiled and then tried to swallow it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help the affection leaching out of his pores. In a desperate attempt to hide it, he said, “You do have a drinking problem.”

            Kavinsky shoved him away. “Asshole.”

            When they looked up again, Gansey had already left and come back with three trays of appetizers. “Don’t tell my mother I carried these over myself,” he said, “or I’ll get another lecture on how it’s embarrassing that people think her own son is the help.”

            “Oh, I’m definitely telling her,” Kavinsky said.

            “Wait until Blue’s here.” Ronan pinched a crab cake between his fingers. “That’s the only way to guarantee a real bitch fight.”

            Henry snorted while Gansey threw Ronan a terrified and reprimanding glare that only made Ronan laugh harder as he popped the crab cake in his mouth. Gansey settled back down, grumbling about how that was not funny at all, and Henry rubbed his shoulders and kissed the side of his neck. Gansey relaxed and took the crab cake Ronan offered him.

            For the first hour or so, nothing happened. A few more people trickled in and the waiters started to circle with the platters in earnest but all was quiet. At eleven-thirty, Blue rolled in looking every inch like the girl Ganseys’ parents feared she would be. She had followed the rules – that, on its own, impressed Ronan – but just barely. She had dressed in the Uniform but instead of erring on the feminine side of things, she had matched her boyfriends to a T. She wore red and brown plaid slacks, a black button up, and a maroon sweater vest. Her socks were knit monstrosities probably made by her mother. Ronan laughed when he first saw her but her boyfriends made no comment, having probably already had an earful about how uncomfortable and impractical dresses were.

            An hour after that, when the Ganseys’ served what they called a “pre-Thanksgiving dinner snack,” Adam and Noah walked in looking like used car salesmen. Their suits were sloppily tailored and the fabric was cheap, but Noah flounced in as happy as could be, already talking too fast for Ronan to understand him. He flopped down beside Kavinsky and then leaned right over him to whisper in Ronan’s ear, “Don’t tell Adam we’re late.”

            Ronan laughed and met his eyes. “When did you tell him it started?”

            “I didn’t,” Noah leaned back. His eyes went to Adam who had already fallen into a conversation on coding with Henry. Noah’s eyes lit up a little, his smile softening and the pacing of his words slowing down. “I just kept telling him we had plenty of time.”

            “What was the delay?” Ronan prompted. He hoped the tone of his voice didn’t convey that he knew because Noah loved secrets and loved knowing more than everyone else.

            But something in his voice must have given it away because Noah frowned a little and said, “Who told you?”

            Ronan laughed. “You’re fucking puppy dog eyes told me. That and the fact that Adam convinced you to wear that suit instead of one of the thousand dollar ones your dad bought you last summer.”

            Noah shrugged. “Adam wouldn’t wear one of mine. And I didn’t want him to feel left out.”

            Ronan shook his head. “Ridiculous.”

            Noah smiled and shoved him again. Kavinsky pulled back, trying to press himself into the couch to avoid Noah’s touch. Noah said, “You’re just jealous I’m the one getting that dick now.”

            Ronan actually laughed, didn’t have to force it at all. And when Kavinsky tilted his head towards him, both curious and smiling, Ronan broke his stupid rule. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together, getting just enough of a hit before Kavinsky pulled back violently and narrowed his eyes into a glare. “Not before the wedding,” he said. Then he looked dramatically towards the heavens and said, “We must be pure in god’s eyes.”

            Noah started to choke on the crab cake he’d popped in his mouth.

            “Don’t kill Adam’s boyfriend,” Ronan said. “That’s just rude.”

            Kavinsky patted Noah on the back. “You mean after I stole the last one?”

            Ronan shook his head as Noah finally managed to swallow and then began the process of fighting off Kavinsky. They ended up more or less having a slap fight on the couch as Ronan leaned out of the way, trying not to get hit himself. Gansey broke it up on his way back from collecting more appetizers for their circle, shoving them away from each other and then plopping himself down between them. Noah gasped and said, “My _hero_ ,” and planted a wet kiss on Gansey’s cheek.

            The hours passed in laughter and too many appetizers. Ronan got up to stretch his legs a few times, sometimes dragging Kavinsky with him and sometimes not. At one point, he wound up in the kitchen with a few lawyers speaking to him about investment insurance or what-not and Adam had to save him by loudly whispering about a very important phone call he needed to take. Ronan let him lead him out into the hall before he said, “Thanks.”

            “No problem,” Adam said.

            And then, because Ronan couldn’t resist seeing Adam squirm a little, he said, “So... Noah?”

            Adam flinched and looked down at the glass in his hand. It was a champagne flute but it was filled only with orange juice pulp. “Yeah,” he said, not offering anything else.

            Ronan bumped their shoulders together, careful not to hit Adam hard enough to make him bump into the candles. The last thing he needed was to set fire to the Ganseys’ house _again_. He hated to say he’d missed this awful Thanksgiving, but he’d missed it. He’d missed the scent of Mrs. Gansey’s cooking and the candles and the too-large house and the ease at which Gansey steered him away from trouble and the ease at which Ronan steered himself back into it. He smiled teasingly at Adam and said, “So? How’d it happen?”

            Adam looked up at him, his expression a cross between doubtful and tired. Ronan wondered if he ever slept or if, like Henry, all his projects and studying and new ideas kept him up late into the night. Ronan, who liked sleep a lot more than he liked Adam, thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing they hadn’t ended up together.

            “I was cramming for some test and it was... two or three in the morning and the test was at nine and Noah kept telling me to go to bed, but I wouldn’t. So eventually, he gets out of his bed, comes over to my desk and starts to rub my shoulders. And, well...” Adam made a face like it was obvious but Ronan stared at him blankly, not giving away that of course he knew exactly what Adam was trying to say. Adam sighed. “And I closed my eyes and leaned back against him and he kissed the top of my head and then he kissed my lips and it just felt... I don’t know. Weirdly right.”

            Ronan smiled and nudged Adam in the ribs again. “I’m happy for you.”

            “I’m happy for you,” Adam said as they stepped back into the living room, their steps slowing a little. Their boyfriends were sitting side by side on the couch violently playing red hands. Adam blinked. “We should break that up.”

            Ronan shrugged. “Why? You don’t think your boyfriend can take my boyfriend?”

            Adam snorted and then shook his head. “We both know Noah could kill Kavinsky before he even drew a knife.”

            “You are so wrong,” Ronan said but there was no more time for arguing because they were fast approaching the group and Blue was already enlisting Adam to help her argue that the rich needed to pay more taxes and Kavinsky was reaching out to Ronan, saying something about Noah cheating, and Noah was laughing and Ronan wasn’t sure he had enough brain cells to comprehend how needlessly happy he was. He separated Kavinsky and Noah, leaning hard into Kavinsky as he did, just to show him two could play his ridiculous game, and steered the conversation away from violence and towards the shelter kids. Kavinsky could talk about the kids until his voice gave out and Ronan could listen to him for at least that long, if not longer, and Noah loved those kids so much they considered him their cool older brother. So Ronan relaxed back against the couch and watched his fiancé speak.

 

Thanksgiving dinner was served at four o’clock on the dot. They were all shuffled into their places at the too-long table and seated in front of embossed place cards with their full names on them. Kavinsky flicked his place card with his fingertips. “They forgot ‘the fourth’ on my card.”

            Ronan shot him a mildly reprimanding look. “Your dad’s name is Albert.”

            “Yeah, but I’ve died at least three times, so really...”

            Ronan shook his head and shushed him as Mr. and Mrs. Gansey rose to their feet at the head of the table and clinked forks against their glasses. Somehow they were so in sync that the sound was musical instead of cacophonous, creating a harmony that filled the air with calm.

            “Welcome one and all to our Thanksgiving dinner,” Mrs. Gansey said. “As you all know, this is a long-running tradition in our family where we celebrate each other and all the things we are thankful for this year.”

            Kavinsky started to tap his fingers nervously against the table and Ronan reached over to stop him. He shot him a curious glance, wondering why or how this could make him twitchy. But Kavinsky had a long list of triggers that Ronan hadn’t even come close to memorizing and he’d forgotten to ask if big Thanksgiving dinners were a thing in his family or if any of the Ganseys’ traditions might be triggering. He squeezed Kavinsky’s fingers tight, hoping to imbue a sense of calm into him. But Kavinsky didn’t even look at him as Mrs. Gansey went on.

            “Now, I know we have a lot of people here today, but I would still like to go around the table and have everyone say one thing that they’re thankful for.” She chuckled. “One thing only! We don’t want the food going cold.”

            All the adults laughed good-naturedly. Well, all the adults along with Gansey, Henry, and Noah whose upbringings had taught them to spot even the worst of jokes and laugh cheerfully at them. Even Adam managed a thin smile but more likely he was reacting to Noah laughing into his bad ear.

            The adults started, listing predictable things like their spouses and their money and their homes and a few chuckling about their investment portfolios. Ronan mostly tuned it out, instead opting for watching the muscle in Kavinsky’s face twitch and letting his worries spiral completely out of control. But they spiraled in a nice way, in a calm way, in a way that didn’t make his breath shudder or shatter because he’d finally learned to trust Kavinsky would tell him if things got to be too much. And Kavinsky hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even met his eyes.

            The person before Kavinsky started to talk and Kavinsky inhaled a sharp breath. He looked like he was counting down the seconds until the guy stopped talking. Noah kicked him under the table, catching the edge of Ronan’s leg as well, and they both looked over. Noah winked. Ronan frowned. The edge of a smile curled across Kavinsky’s lips as the man finished up his lame joke and everyone laughed. Ronan felt his stomach fall into his feet. He knew that smile too well.

            Kavinsky got to his feet and cleared his throat. He raised his wine glass even though it was empty, looking around the table and smiling at the slightly horrified expressions on everyone’s faces. Most people were scared he was going to make a speech and let the food go cold. Ronan was scared he was about to get them eternally banned from the Ganseys’ house. He pulled on the bottom of Kavinsky’s suit jacket but he ignored him as he began to speak.

            “For anyone who knows me, you know that this year has changed me in a hundred ways, all of them for the better. I owe all of that to the person who I am most thankful for, my fiancé, Ronan Lynch.”

            There was a smattering of applause and a course of _awws_.

            “A few weeks ago, Ronan told me he wanted to get married soon and I kept putting off the date and the plans and his elopement schemes because, despite everything he would want you to believe, Ronan loves the people in his life too much to get married without them there. And with everyone’s schedules and venue dates and vendors, who knows when we’ll be able to get everyone together to...” Kavinsky trailed off as he started to sound confused.

            Ronan squinted up at him.

            Kavinsky looked from side to side, curious. “Is the Lynch family here?”

            “You know we’re here.” Declan’s bored voice came from the other end of the table. Beside him sat Matthew, who waved.

            “And all our friends are here...” Kavinsky said, his brows wrinkling. He looked around as if expecting more people to pop out of the walls. “Wait. Is anyone here ordained?”    

            Noah leaped to his feet. “I am!”

            Kavinsky faked a gasp and looked down at Ronan with wide eyes. “Ronan. This would be the perfect opportunity to get married, don’t you think?”

            Ronan stared at him, at a loss for words and thoughts and the ability to function.

            Kavinsky gripped his arm tightly and hauled him to his feet. Kavinsky’s smile was brilliant and devilish and Ronan couldn’t breathe well enough to find the strength to kiss it off him. Kavinsky grabbed him with both hands and said, “Ronan, baby. Let’s get married right _now_.”

            All of a sudden, the wedding march started to play. Several guests at the table startled and more people laughed. Servants came out of the kitchen with big bushels of white flowers and someone set a veil on top of Ronan’s head. Someone else handed him a bouquet. Kavinsky pulled two ring boxes out of his pocket and handed one to Ronan with a wink. Ronan swallowed hard, trying not to start crying.

            “Ladies and gentlemen,” Noah started loudly, spreading his arms wide to encompass the whole table. “We are gathered here today to... well, we’re gathered here today to eat Thanksgiving dinner. And we’ll get to that. But at this moment, we are here to witness the marriage of Ronan Lynch to Joseph Kavinsky. Their love story has not been in the world long. They have had their ups and downs, certainly. But I personally have never witnessed two people more in love or two people whose love has more resilience. They have proven to each other time and time again that they can grow and learn and take care of themselves and each other. They have proven to all of us – all of us who were doubtful of this relationship at first – that it truly is the right match for both of them.”

            Noah smiled and took a deep breath. “So, without further ado, Kavinsky, would you like to recite your vows?”

            Kavinsky smirked at him and then turned his gaze on Ronan. His dark eyes were sparkling and alive, full of energy and joy and love. Ronan remembered when they were black holes he could have fallen into but now they were solid, hopeful.

            “Ronan Lynch,” Kavinsky began. “You came into my life as the hot roommate I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off and then turned into the love of my life. You know better than most that I’ve never believed in love. I’ve never had a reason to believe that it was real or good or that I deserved it. And then you came along. And no matter what dumb shit I did, you fought for me. You took care of me. You saved me. I know I once said it wasn’t up to you, but that didn’t stop you from doing it.”

            A light chuckle went up in the room as Ronan sniffed.

            Kavinsky touched his face, his thumb grazing across his cheek. His smile softened to the pure look he got in the early mornings, to the smile Ronan always thought he’d imagined. “You’ve made me so happy. Before you, I didn’t know what happiness was. I thought it was a high or a myth people told. But now I know it’s real. Now I know it’s what I feel when I’m with you. And Ronan, I know I’m not what you imagined, I’m not the life you wanted for yourself, but I’m still glad you chose me. And I hope you keep choosing me, no matter what. Because I will do everything in my power to be the best husband you could ever ask for.” He swallowed hard and Ronan pressed his thumb to his cheek to catch the first tear he’d ever seen Kavinsky shed. “I love you,” he whispered, “and I will love you unconditionally for the rest of my life.”

            Ronan leaned in, knocking their foreheads together, as his vision blurred.

            “Ronan,” Noah prompted, “I know we blindsided you with this but—”

            “You’re wrong,” Ronan whispered. Then he cleared his throat and spoke louder, because it was a wedding even if he was only speaking to Kavinsky. “You may not have been my imagined life but you are everything I ever could have wanted. I never knew what I needed, never knew how to make myself happy, never knew how to live. And you taught me all those things. You dragged me around and made me feel things I’ve never felt before and I fell in love with you long before I ever kissed you. And then I stopped loving you because I realized I didn’t know you at all. But once I got to know you, once I learned who you are, I fell even harder. You are the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with, the only person I would trust with my world.” Ronan blinked, letting the tears fall. He could see the streaks of tears down Kavinsky’s face and he barely resisted the urge to kiss them away. “I love you, Joseph Kavinsky the fourth, and I will never stop loving you exactly the way you deserve to be loved.”

            Kavinsky kissed him. Not the soft, loving kiss weddings asked for, but a fiery and furious kiss that had Ronan’s knees going weak. He pulled Kavinsky closer, trying to make an already eating kiss deeper.

            “Whoa!” Noah exclaimed. “Excuse me! Priest-in-training here trying to conduct a fucking wedding ceremony.”

            Everyone laughed and the kiss broke not because either of them wanted it to but because their smiles had become too big. Ronan was still breathing Kavinsky’s air, tasting his breath with every heaved exhale. He refused to back up, to let go. Luckily, it didn’t seem like Kavinsky wanted to move either.

            “Exchange the rings, guys,” Noah prompted.

            Ronan laughed. “Your script is impeccable.”

            “You love it.”

            Ronan didn’t reply, just pulled the ring from his pocket. Kavinsky was already holding his hand, already slipping the gold band into place. Ronan watched it go on, memorizing the moment, replaying it between his heartbeats. Then he reached for Kavinsky’s hand and slipped on his ring, going slow and relishing the feel of smooth skin beneath his fingers. Kavinsky then held his hands tight, their eyes meeting and the world falling into perfect rhythm with the stars.

            “I now pronounce you husband and husband,” Noah said, sounding annoyed and exasperated by the whole display, but the edge of laughter in his voice gave him away. “You may now kiss your spouse. _Again_.”

            Ronan pressed his lips to Kavinsky’s, his smile too big to hold back. Kavinsky tried to kiss back but their teeth just knocked together. They backed up laughing.

            Then the rice hit Ronan. He flinched and glanced away from Kavinsky to see the whole crew throwing handfuls of rice up into the air around him, hitting the food and the dinnerware and causing Mrs. Gansey to find her voice again as she tried to get them to stop without ruining the mood. Ronan snatched a bag of rice himself and threw a handful back at them before ducking out of the way. Kavinsky stepped in front of him as a shield, laughing, before Mrs. Gansey got the servants to confiscate the rice.

            Ronan and Kavinsky sat down laughing, smiling, and unable to keep their eyes off each other.

            Mrs. Gansey cleared her throat. “Well,” she said, “let’s eat.”

 

Thanksgiving dinner left everyone sleepy and full. The guests retreated back to the living room and the gang took back their spots on the couches. Gansey sat upright by the armrest, wine glass in hand, with Henry snoozing on his shoulder. Blue lay with her feet stretched down the couch and her head in Henry’s lap. Noah had curled up in Adam’s lap and Adam had faked annoyance but beamed the whole time Noah struggled to find the exact right position.

            Ronan watched them all until Kavinsky came back from the bathroom and flopped down beside him. Then Ronan only had eyes for his husband. _Husband_. It felt like he had been waiting his whole life to use that word for Kavinsky and to have it now, to be able to say it, Ronan finally felt free from the very last of his chains.

            Kavinsky laid his chin on Ronan’s shoulder and started to play with the buttons of his vest. He got it open easily and slid his hand under the heavy fabric, his fingertips playing across Ronan’s ribs. Ronan let his eyes close, feeling the effects of eating a little too much and the soothing nature of Kavinsky touching him, something he felt like he’d been deprived of for decades. If he blocked out the babble of the adults in the other room, he could imagine they were at home, curled under the covers, and Kavinsky was sleepily waking up around him.

            Of course, thoughts like that led to other thoughts. Thoughts of what waking up that way entailed, of where Kavinsky’s hands usually went, of how easy and pliant Ronan became under his touch, of how desperately Ronan wanted to be laid out taken care of in that moment. But Kavinsky stuck torturously to safe places, threading his fingers between the buttons of Ronan’s shirt and exploring his chest like Ronan had lost his legs, arms, and every other body part in some freak accident.

            Ronan let his eyes open and caught Kavinsky staring at him with an expression Ronan could only describe as worship. He’d caught glimpses of it before on late mornings and late nights, when they were in clubs where the lights were so low he could barely see the other man. But now, when Ronan caught him, Kavinsky did nothing to hide the look on his face, just looked back at Ronan with all the broken openness he had. Here he was. The man that Ronan loved. No barriers. And god was it worth it.

            Ronan found the energy to lift his neck and pressed his lips to Kavinsky’s. The kiss started lazy, with open mouths and exploring tongues, but then Ronan grabbed the knot of Kavinsky’s tie and dragged him closer. He felt more than heard Kavinsky chuckle, a low rumble through his mouth, and then found himself pressed back into the couch, the lips on his rough and demanding, Kavinsky’s hand sliding down the length of his neck and digging under his buttoned-up collar.

            “Not here,” Ronan mumbled.

            “Yes,” Kavinsky replied. “Here.”

            They were definitely never getting invited back to Mrs. Gansey’s Thanksgiving dinner.

            Ronan didn’t care.

            Kavinsky stood up, taking his hand, and pulled him to his feet. Ronan stumbled after him, for once not caring that he was walking behind his husband. His _husband_. The word felt sweet and illusive in his mind and he wondered how it would feel on his tongue. He wondered how much shit he would take if he insisted on calling Kavinsky that at every turn, if he dared to use _hubby_ in a casual context. He wondered if Kavinsky would smile or glare or simply raise a questioning eyebrow.

            All these thoughts ran through his head as Kavinsky led him through twisted hallways. Ronan knew them all by heart. He had spent so many weekends at this house as a child, running around with Gansey, hiding from Helen, trying to find new spots to try out illegal and dangerous things without Mrs. or Mr. Gansey catching him. He caught glimpses of memories as he passed – the vase he had broken and Gansey had replaced before his mom got back from a business trip, the closet he’d always hid in during hide-and-seek, the staircase he had used to slide down while Gansey walked purposefully down every step – but Kavinsky kept pulling him away. They went up the stairs and turned through the halls and ended up in a room Ronan had only seen once: Mr. and Mrs. Gansey’s bedroom.

            “No,” Ronan said.

            “Yes.” Kavinsky turned around and smiled with all the evil in the world. He stepped backwards into the room, pulling Ronan with him.

            “No.”

            “It’s the best bedroom in the place.”

            “How do you even know that?”

            Kavinsky shrugged. He tugged Ronan close to him so they were standing on each other’s toes and pressed their noses together. “Gansey gave me a tour a few days ago.” He pecked Ronan on the lips. “I told him I wanted to know the layout so I wouldn’t get lost in this massive, dipshit of a house.”

            Ronan laughed. “You keep forgetting you were rich too.”

            Kavinsky shook his head. “Not like this. Not old money rich, not White House-level mansion rich.” He kissed Ronan again, dragging out the kiss a little, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. When it broke, he said, “You weren’t rich like this either. You were farmhouse-in-the-middle-of-nowhere rich.”

            “Can I ask you something?”

            Kavinsky nodded.

            Ronan swallowed his nerves. “Why didn’t you go to Aglionby? If you were so rich and in the area, I just don’t understand why—”

            “I’d run away by then,” Kavinsky said. “Well, not run away. I got emancipated at twelve, moved out, made my way dealing on the streets.”

            “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

            Kavinsky shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault.” He kissed Ronan again, several times, quick pecks as he coaxed him back into the room. “But if you want to make up for all the terrible experiences I’ve had in my life...” He trailed off and glanced behind himself at the bed.

            Ronan sighed. “Really? Mrs. Gansey’s bed?”

            Kavinsky raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. Would Dick’s bed turn you on more?”

            Any other day, Ronan might have let the comment slide, might have ignored it. Today, he tilted his head to the side and considered the offer. Because Kavinsky was offering, he knew him well enough to know that. Ronan said, “Yeah. It would.”

            Kavinsky hummed, pushing Ronan back out of the room. “Yeah?” he said. “You wanna play out all your little middle school fantasies about sucking Dick’s dick in his childhood bedroom?” He shoved Ronan hard, causing him to stumble, but caught him by the lapels before he hit anything. The smile on his face was brilliant and biting, the kind of smile Ronan thought he could have cut himself on before. Now he knew better. Kavinsky’s teeth were like safety scissors. “You wanna makeout on his bed like teenagers? Feel around all those nooks and crannies you were never allowed to?”

            Ronan smiled brilliantly, unable to stop himself. He reached behind himself to grab the doorknob before Kavinsky could throw him against the door. He opened it, stepped back into Gansey’s room and said, “No. I just wanna relive my teenage exploits with my husband.”

            Kavinsky raised an eyebrow. “You and Dick?”

            Ronan exhaled a laugh and shook his head. “But it is the best hookup spot in the world. Not that far from school, private, often empty, easy to sneak into.” He turned away from Kavinsky and knocked his knuckles against the window. “I used to bring Adam here all the time.”

            “Does Dick know?”

            “He’ll know now.”

            Kavinsky shook his head, smiling with full affection, no longer looking like he wanted to eat Ronan raw. And Ronan’s heart swelled to look at him, to know they were together and they were strong, that everything was going to turn out all right. He stepped towards him and laid a pleasant kiss on his lips. Then he leaned their foreheads together and whispered, “Thanks for marrying me.”

            “Don’t be sappy, Lynch. You know how it turns me off.”

            Ronan laughed but the sound was cut off by Kavinsky shoving his tongue down his throat. Ronan had to stop him from shoving him back into the wall because Gansey’s walls were covered with everything from ley line maps to model airplanes. So he pushed back, moving Kavinsky towards the bed, and landed on top of him. It only took Kavinsky thirty seconds to flip them around so he had Ronan’s body caged under him, their lips pressed together and their bodies intertwined.

            Ronan groaned as Kavinsky started to undo his bowtie. Ronan pushed off Kavinsky’s jacket roughly, letting his hands scrape down Kavinsky’s back and come to a rest on his ass. He grabbed it and pulled the other man forward, rubbing their crotches together in the process, causing them both to exhale heavily.

            Kavinsky got his lips on Ronan’s neck and then across his collarbone. He kissed down his sternum as he undid the buttons of his shirt, dragging his body down Ronan’s. Ronan could feel the hardness of Kavinsky’s cock rubbing across his thigh, hitching every few inches as he thrust forward looking for friction and release. As Kavinsky kissed down his chest, he cupped a hand over Ronan’s crotch and Ronan groaned at the sudden friction.

            He’d been far from sexually inactive since he’d put the no-sex-until-the-wedding rule in place. Almost every night, he’d brought himself to climax in the shower and sometimes when he woke up in the morning and Kavinsky was already gone, he’d roll onto Kavinsky’s side of the bed and pretend he was getting fucked. But it was different to have Kavinsky’s hands on him and Ronan wondered how he’d ever survived those early months when it was just a fantasy, when all he had was this image of his nasty roommate in his head and the imaginary feeling of his rough hands and his teeth—

            Oh god. Ronan had forgotten what Kavinsky could do with his teeth and as Kavinsky bit down on one of his nipples, Ronan’s whole body arched up into the touch even as Kavinsky pressed down on his hip hard enough to leave a bruise. Ronan threaded his fingers through Kavinsky’s gelled hair, ruining it, but he needed to ground himself with something and Kavinsky was still so far down his body, grinding against his thigh as he rubbed Ronan’s crotch, that Ronan couldn’t grab his ass or his dick or anything that would give him the opportunity for revenge.

            But that was the control Kavinsky liked. Ronan liked Kavinsky in control too.

            Kavinsky pressed their lips back together, his body sliding into place as he pried Ronan’s legs apart with his knees. He sunk his weight down, rubbing their crotches together, and then sat up. He held Ronan down by the shoulders and rocked against his hardness. Ronan groaned at the sensation, at the feeling of him. He reached out and ran his hands down Kavinsky’s clothed thighs, looking for steady ground.

            “You like that?” Kavinsky teased.

            “Like it better if we didn’t have pants on.”

            “You’re the one who insisted on so many layers of clothes.” Kavinsky pushed Ronan’s shirt and suit jacket off his shoulders, letting his fingers bite down into strong flesh. “It’s going to take a while to get it all off. You might not even make it.”

            Ronan wanted to give a biting response to that but he knew Kavinsky was right. He might not make it. Not if they kept going this slow, not with Kavinsky’s length pressing against him, not with the heat and tension building up in his body. It’d been only a little over two weeks and Ronan felt like it’d been a lifetime.

            Kavinsky brushed his thumb over Ronan’s lip and shifted slightly to change the angle. He groaned as his dick slipped up the V-line of Ronan’s hip muscles, taking away Ronan’s relief but increasing his need.

            “Please just hurry the fuck up,” Ronan breathed out.

            Kavinsky cocked his head to the side. “Are you gonna beg for it?” He continued to rock as he started to undo the buttons of his shirt slowly, like he had all the time in the world. But Ronan knew this act, knew Kavinsky could come undone with the right touch, the right kiss. If he played his cards right, he could get Kavinsky to blow his load before he did. And wouldn’t that make him mad.

            But Ronan let Kavinsky play his game, watched as the shirt opened wider to reveal the pale scars across the other man’s thin torso. There was meat on it now, enough to grab on to, and Ronan worshipped those few inches of flab like they were extensions of Kavinsky’s dick. He would give anything to have more of them, to have Kavinsky fat and lazy and happy. He didn’t care what his husband looked like as long as he was healthy. Ronan reached for his stomach, rubbing his hands across Kavinsky’s bellybutton and kneading the flesh there.

            Kavinsky whispered, “Remember the last time you begged for it?”

            And of course Ronan did. How could Ronan forget the Christmas party that had started their relationship, the mistletoe over Kavinsky’s dick, and how eagerly he had tasted it. Kavinsky had wasted no time fucking his mouth then, calling him names and making Ronan come fast in his own pants. Kavinsky had scoffed at the display, walking away with his dick still hard, and Ronan watching it move as Kavinsky wandered around the room. His jaw had been sore and red, but still he’d asked to help, to be able to get Kavinsky off, to try again.

            And Kavinsky had asked, with a level of dead boredom he could no longer achieve, if Ronan was going to beg for it. He had. Shamelessly. He’d do it now if Kavinsky wanted him to.

            Kavinsky shrugged off his shirt and tie and threw it all to the side. Then he pulled Ronan up into a seated position, seeming to barely register how close their bodies were, and pulled the clothes off Ronan’s torso. Ronan didn’t wait for Kavinsky to ignore him again, to shove him back. Instead, he started a campaign to leave hickeys up the length of Kavinsky’s neck, biting and sucking at the flesh there, moving closer so the skin of their stomachs slid together and he could feel Kavinsky hard against his belly.

            Kavinsky tossed Ronan’s clothes away with a sigh. “Must you do this,” he said, almost sounding embarrassed for him, almost tricking Ronan. Ronan honestly couldn’t take him seriously anymore; he knew too many of his tells. And this tell was a shake in Kavinsky’s tone, a breath between syllables, an unsteadiness to the way he gripped Ronan’s shoulder blades. “Do you really think you can get me too—”

            He cut himself off with a strangled groan. Ronan, enterprising as he was, had snuck a hand under Kavinsky’s waistband and grabbed a handful of his ass. With his other hand, he made quick work of his belt buckle, slipping into his underwear to cup his balls and rub his thumb along the underside of his dick. Kavinsky made a strangled noise and buried his face into the crook of Ronan’s shoulder.

            “What were you saying, baby?” Ronan cooed. He licked up the length of Kavinsky’s neck as he rocked forward, his cock rubbing against Kavinsky’s ass, and got a solid grip on his dick. “You wanted me to beg?” Ronan prompted.

            “Fuck you,” he breathed out.

            Ronan smiled against his skin, pressed a soft kiss behind his ear. He started to stroke Kavinsky’s length, his grip tight but his movement slow. Yes, he could make Kavinsky blow his load in a second, but he didn’t want to. His skin was slick with sweat, his smile bright, and he’d be damned if he left this room before he got fucked.

            “Did you bring lube?” Ronan asked, his voice low and soothing.

            Kavinsky grunted out something Ronan didn’t quite catch. He moved the hand he had on Kavinsky’s ass and rummaged through his pockets before pulling out a tube of lube and a condom.

            “So prepared,” Ronan cooed.

            “Fuck...” Kavinsky groaned when Ronan squeezed his balls but still muttered, “off” into the meat of his shoulder. Then he bit down, his teeth sharp and agonizing and Ronan got the point. This show was going off script fast and neither of them wanted to end it too soon.

            “Get out of your fucking pants,” Ronan breathed.

            Kavinsky, for once in his damn life, did as he was told. He shifted off of Ronan and pushed down his pants. Ronan struggled out of his own, pulling them down and kicking them off. Kavinsky grabbed them at his ankles and got them off the rest of the way before crawling up the length of him and kissing his lips. He kept himself off Ronan, the heat of his bare skin nearly unbearable, and held Ronan still with sweating hands.

            He reached for the lube and Ronan took the opportunity to pull him down. Their hips knocked together and Ronan moaned when their dicks touched. Kavinsky covered his mouth with a hand, practically shoving his fingers between his lips.

            “Shut the fuck up. There are people downstairs.”

            Ronan, too turned on to really care, started to suck on Kavinsky’s fingers in earnest. He saw the moment of _oh fuck_ cross Kavinsky’s face before he struggled back to composure and went through the painstaking task of squeezing out the lube one-handed. When he managed it, he looked down at Ronan and said, “Can’t do it from this angle, Lynch.”

            Ronan moaned around his fingers, felt the shiver that went through Kavinsky. Then he popped his lips off and rolled over, propping his ass into the air. He bit down on his lip and pressed his face into the pillow, trying to follow Kavinsky’s command for silence even as he slapped his ass. Then he gripped it hard and spread his cheeks, dipping in two fingers right away.

            Ronan bit down on the pillow, forgetting he’d have to explain the stains to Gansey eventually. Kavinsky worked him open roughly, with the kind of skill that Ronan never got tired of, and slipped in a third finger quickly. He spread them all out and Ronan forced himself to relax, pleasure running through his body so fast he thought it might be the start of his orgasm, and wouldn’t that be great if he actually did blow his load too fast again.

            “You’re still open, baby girl,” Kavinsky murmured. His voice shook a little. “You been letting other dicks up in here?” He twisted his fingers and Ronan nearly bit through his tongue. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

            Ronan pushed the pillow out of his mouth and managed, “I’ve been... keeping it loose.”

            “How?”

            “Fingering myself. Using dildos.” Ronan groaned around the word _fuck_ and then pressed his face further into the pillow to slow his breathing. “I got one based off yours. Those specialized ones.”

            Kavinsky chuckled. “Missed my dick that much, hmm?”

            Ronan nodded into the pillow as Kavinsky dragged his fingers out and then pushed them all the way back in fast. He was more than ready and Kavinsky knew it but he also knew it was taking all of Ronan’s willpower to not rock into the mattress and get himself off. “You know how I was calling you at night?” he said. “I used to get you talking and then put it in, pretend you were there and fucking me while complaining like you do. And I’d keep my mouth shut so you’d keep talking, slip in the dildo and fucking take it, rock back onto it like—”

            “Enough,” Kavinsky snapped. He slipped out his fingers and spanked him again.

            Ronan bit down on the pillow, feeling his teeth knock against each other.

            “Fucking idiot,” Kavinsky began. “Fucking goddamn moron.”

            Ronan could hear the sounds of Kavinsky slicking himself up, rolling on the condom and getting the lube nice and thick. He wished he could see, could have sucked him off before the condom went on, tasted his dick and choked around it. Then Kavinsky turned him over roughly, Ronan bouncing against the bed, and shoved his legs up. He gripped his thighs tightly as he slid into the space between them, still grumbling under his breath, his eyes turned down.

            “Fuck me,” Ronan whispered, his voice all but gone as he tried to keep breathing. “Fuck me, please. K, please. Just fuck me.”

            “Fuck you,” Kavinsky said, sounding like he was agreeing to it and insulting him at the same time. He took his cock in his hand – the long, hard length Ronan wanted _anywhere_ just then – and positioned himself. He let it slide along the crack of Ronan’s ass, making him groan, before he pushed in. Ronan lost his breath, lost his ability to see for a second, and then crashed back to reality with Kavinsky thrusting into him as hard as he could go.

            Ronan cursed, too loudly, and Kavinsky shoved his fingers back into his mouth. Ronan sucked them in earnest, feeling the burning in his ass and clenching down around Kavinsky’s length. Kavinsky groaned, the sound growling between his teeth, as he spread his hands up Ronan’s torso and twisted his nipples, making Ronan buck back towards him, trying to get more and harder and faster even though he wasn’t sure any of that was possible. Kavinsky pushed his thigh up further, looking for a better angle.

            Then he grazed a hand down Ronan’s length and Ronan lost it with just a touch of his fingernails. The orgasm ripped through him, running like shivers throughout all his muscles and causing him to squeeze his eyes shut tight. He did his best not to bite Kavinsky’s fingers but knew he failed when he drew back his hand fast. That hand then came down on his ass, pulling him up and closer.

            Ronan’s come spurted all over Kavinsky’s chest, dripping down his scars and the crooks of his muscles. He mumbled out obscenities as the aftershocks made their way through his body and Kavinsky didn’t slow down, didn’t give him even a second to recover. He kept pounding into him, making Ronan’s whole body shake, making nerves that didn’t want to fire anymore fire at a rapid pace.

            Ronan reached for Kavinsky, spreading his hands over his body, trying to shift closer. He gripped his ass and then, without preamble, slid a finger into him. Kavinsky cursed much too loudly, his easy rhythm interrupted and Ronan slid in another finger beside it. He scissored him open, loving the way it made Kavinsky go breathless and silent.

            He thrusted forward with less strength, the strokes becoming long and burning. Ronan squeezed his ass around him, trying to draw his orgasm out even as he twisted his fingers deeper inside him.

            When Kavinsky came, it was with a calm Ronan had never seen from him before. He buried himself deep in Ronan’s ass and let it all out, the warmth spilling into the condom. He opened his mouth and eyes wide, looking stunned, and Ronan slipped his fingers out. He coaxed Kavinsky down, brought his shaking body into his arms, and kissed his face. He kissed his lips and got kissed back hard enough to bruise.

            Kavinsky slipped out and dropped the condom in the trash. Ronan pulled him closer, licking down his chest to clean up the come. Kavinsky groaned under the ministrations, allowed himself to be turned over so Ronan could crawl on top of him as he worked. When he was clean, Ronan let his tongue slide down the length of Kavinsky’s cock, wanting to taste him even spent.

            Then he lay down beside his husband and let Kavinsky drag him onto his chest. He could hear his husband’s heartbeat, feel it beneath the palm of his hand. Their breathing steadied out and Ronan felt the sweat settle onto his skin.

            “We need to get back to the party,” he said after a few minutes.

            Kavinsky’s hand moved over his shaven head. “In a minute.”

            But it was ten minutes before they moved, another five before they got dressed. Their hands wandered as they helped each other into shirts and ties, doing up each other’s flies. Ronan leaned in to every touch, kissed Kavinsky whenever his skin came close to his lips. They were so tangled up in each other that Ronan was sure everyone would see it on them, would be able to tell every dirty little secret just from the smiles on their faces. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

            They wandered back downstairs holding hands. Ronan tried to fake the post-Thanksgiving laziness he should feel but he was still alive from the encounter, tingling and unable to calm down. They took back their places on the couch and Kavinsky swung one leg over Ronan’s knee. Ronan placed his hand on Kavinsky’s thigh, wanting to wander further down but controlling himself. He had his whole life for that.

            Gansey glanced over at them lazily, one of his eyes closed. “Where have you two been?”

            “It’s a secret,” Ronan drawled. Then he winked. “But you might want to change your sheets.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, Americans! This series is almost coming to an end here... I'll write one or two more parts depending on how it all comes together in my head! Thanks for reading <3


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